Coming Home
by KathrynBee22
Summary: TIVA. I wrote this to give myself some hope and also closure for what happens in Season 11 (SPOILERS). Tony wants her to come home, but is he willing to risk trying to bring her home all over again? Is Ziva ready to come home? Short, sweet, and to the point. How I want it all to end. 5 chapters max.
1. 1 McGee

Tony had been staring at his computer for what felt like hours now. He was typing, using _both hands,_ and hadn't even taken a break in, he stopped to check the clock, twenty minutes! According to the clock, however, he had only been at the computer for a couple of hours. Still, he had been more productive lately than he could ever remember being. He went back to the report he was working on when McGee strolled out of the elevator. His surprise at seeing Tony at the office so early was evident, based on him nearly dropping his coffee all over the desk.

"Tony?" he asked in shock. "What are you doing here this early again?" he ask, dumbfounded. Tony glanced up from his computer. He immediately registered that Tim had apparently opted into the "skinny pants" trend. However, no quips or remarks jumped to his mind.

"I had some work to catch up on. And I couldn't sleep." Tony explained. McGee was still eyeing him suspiciously. He walked to his desk, glancing over his shoulder at his coworker. Tony typed on. He watched for a full five minutes and Tony never once stopped working.

"Tony," McGee said, "What is going on with you?" he asked. Tony merely raised his eyebrows.

"Whatever do you mean Tim?" he asked in a voice that was just a notch too polite. The use of his first name, and not a play on his last name, he registered immediately as a red flag.

"First you join a men's support group, now you're coming to work early, and today!" he exclaimed. "Today you didn't even comment on my pants!" Tony finally looked up from his screen.

"I think your new pants are, just a great look McGee. Very, stylish." Tony said calmly. McGee's jaw dropped. Something was definitely wrong. Tony had only been this off balance once before. A dim flicker of explanation sparked at the back of his mind. There was something in common with both of his character lapses. His eyes flicked to the desk formerly occupied by Ziva.

"Tony," he said again as he crossed back over to his desk, "Seriously, you haven't been the same since-" McGee trailed off as his eyes caught something shiny in Tony's open desk drawer. It looked like a small gold chain. He craned his neck to investigate it just as Tony noticed his attention and slammed the drawer shut.

"Since what, McNosy?" Tony demanded. Despite his obvious anger McGee was glad to at least get a rise out of him. Tony was glaring up at McGee with a challenging look, as if daring him to say what he had been about to. His hand lingered protectively on the drawer.

"Since…Tony, is that…?" McGee asked, pointing towards Tony's drawer. He wasn't sure if he had seen it correctly, but he could have sworn he saw a very familiar necklace. Tony's glare remained intact, but he slowly pulled his hand away from the desk. As McGee reached for the drawer he had the distinct feeling that he was putting his hand into the lion's cage. He gingerly pulled open the drawer, half expecting Tony to slam it shut on his hand. He quickly found what had caught his eye earlier; sitting neatly in the back of the drawer was a small golden Star of David hung on a chain. McGee pulled it out to examine it closer. With the exception of a handful of undercover missions, in the eight years he had worked with its owner he had never seen her without it.

"Tony, what really happened in Israel?" he asked, throwing caution to the wind. He was much too curious not to get the full story, no matter what the cost. For years he had been wondering if anything had ever happened between the two of them. From their frequent overnight missions, to the often overly long stares across the bullpen, to their mutual reactions anytime one of them dated. He had pushed his suspicions to the side for years because of rule 12, not to mention the fact that they more or less hated each other when they met. But something had changed the last year or two. He wasn't the only one with suspicions either. They had all pondered whether anything had happened between them, and now he seemed to be dangling the proof that something indeed had from his fingertips.

"You really want to know what happened in Israel, Tim?" Tony snapped as he snatched the necklace from McGee's hand. "You really want to know what happened between me and our former partner, Agent Ziva David?"

Suddenly, McGee wasn't quite sure that he wanted to know after all. Tony continued anyway.

"I asked her to come home McGee, and she said no." Tony said, standing and leaning towards McGee.

"She told me she loved me, and then she left." He said evenly. McGee fought to control his visible reactions upon hearing the word "loved".

"You two…?" he asked faintly. He wasn't even sure what questions to ask. His mind was racing everywhere, wondering when, how long, and seriously? Sure, there had been an unspoken understanding that the two agents had an inexplicable closeness, but that they were in _love _was hard to grasp. McGee bit his tongue to keep the questions at bay. In that moment Tony looked so angry and so hurt that he wished he had never asked. Somehow, he had completely underestimated the situation. After a heavy moment Tony finally leaned away from McGee. He picked up Ziva's necklace and ran the smooth gold between his fingers.

"Well I always wondered about Paris…" McGee mumbled as he tried to regain himself. "But I-I didn't think, I didn't re—"

"Okay enough McStutter!" Tony barked. "It's done. Over. She left; she's gone; that's that. Can we move on now?" For the first time that morning Tony actually yelled at McGee. His hand closed into a fist around the necklace.

"You,love her?" McGee asked quietly. Instead of yelling anymore, Tony ran his fingers through his already disheveled hair and let out a heavy sigh. The fight seemed to have left him as quickly as it had hit.

"Yeah, McGee. I really do." he admitted. Most of the anger had fled his voice. He now sounded defeated, tired even.

"And she loves you?" McGee asked tentatively. He braced himself for another outburst but Tony remained calm.

"Yeah, well, at least I think so." Tony said. He looked back down at the necklace in his hand. Holding it made him feel just the smallest bit closer to her. She had given him a piece of herself; given it to him and only him.

McGee was still mystified. His mind was struggling to wrap around all the facts. Anthony DiNozzo, the notorious womanizer, had fallen in love, with _Ziva_.Ziva David had let her guard down long enough to really love someone, to love _Tony_. And to top it all off he had just lost $50 to Abby thanks to them. He might not have believed it at all were it not for the necklace in Tony's hand, the picture of him they had found taped to her computer monitor when she left, and the look on Tony's face right then.

"Tony," McGee said as he once again tried to regain control of the situation. "Ziva is without a doubt the most loyal person that I have ever met. If she loves you, then it's not done. It's not over."

Tony lifted his eyes from the necklace to McGee. For a flicker of a moment McGee saw a new emotion reflected in Tony's face. For just a split second, before he could hide it, Tony's eyes were filled with hope.


	2. 2 Abby

Tony groaned in frustration as his phone continued to ring ceaselessly. He had just unwrapped his Twix bar and was poised for a bite when it had started to ring. He waited patiently for the caller to give up, but it was to no avail.

"DiNozzo" he spat into the phone.

"Tony!" he heard Abby's voice yell. He winced and pulled the phone away from him because of her volume. "I need you in my lab NOW!" she said excitedly.

"Is this about the bullet fragments Abs?" he asked, sitting up attentively. The case they had been working on was just getting good. McGee had been gone for hours with a witness and Gibbs was..well somewhere.

"Ummm, ya. That's it." She said in a much quieter voice. Tony hesitated.

"Shouldn't you be calling Gibbs then?" He questioned. Tony heard silence on the other end of the line.

"Abby?"

"Just get down here Tony! Pronto!" she yelled again, and hung up. With a sigh tony re-wrapped his candy bar and headed towards the elevator. He had no intention of pissing off Abby…ever.

"Whad'ya got Abs?" Tony asked in his best Gibbs impression. His smile faded abruptly when he heard the lab door shut and lock behind him.

"…Abby?" he called out nervously.

"Hi Tony!" she sang out in a too-cheerful voice.

"What's with the doors Abs?" Abby bit her lip.

"Mmmm nothing…" she said unconvincingly. "Just, new security measures." Tony arched his eyebrow suspiciously.

"New since…this morning?" he asked her. Abby bit her lip again, her nervous habit.

"Well ya Tony….new means new, like up to date, in the times, hip with the trends—"

"Abby!" he cut her off.

"Fine!" she yelled back. Unlike too many NCIS employees, Abby Sciuto couldn't keep a secret. Tony could tell when she was keeping something to herself, and Abby definitely was holding onto something big. "I brought you down here because I need to talk to you."

Tony squinted at the confusing woman in front of him. The locked doors were still an uncomfortable mystery.

"Uh huh," he mumbled. "And you locked me in here because…" he looked around the lab for some sort of explanation. Abby's face contorted from that of someone withholding information, to that of someone guilty with knowledge.

"Because I knew you wouldn't want to talk about it." she said. She laced her fingers together as she spoke and looked down at her platform boots to avoid eye contact.

Tony opened his mouth to question her but she beat him to it. Clearly holding onto whatever it was she brought him down here for was killing her.

"McGee told me!" she blurted out. She was now wringing her hands anxiously as Tony searched her face for more. "About the necklace." she finished in a much smaller voice.

"That little…McBigMouth." Tony muttered.

"I'm so sorry Tony; I promised not to tell!" she said, stepping closer to him. She stopped herself from getting any closer when she saw the look on his face.

"It's just that I, well I-I…" she muttered incomprehensibly.

"Spit it out Abby!" Tony demanded. He had never in 10 years of working with her been angry, but all of his coworkers interfering in his life was getting to be too much.

"I want her back too Tony!" she said. Tony dropped his guard when she finally looked him in the eye. Her eyes were full of tears. Abby always did carry everyone else's emotions in her heart as well as her own. He knew she really felt for him; her sincerity was always genuine. Tony shook his head, breaking their gaze.

"Abby," he whispered, "it's no use. I already tried bringing her home. And I failed."

Abby paused. His expression was almost enough to make her give up her plan. The mixture of defeat and sorrow was more than she thought she could bear. She had never seen anything like it on Tony's face. Normally when Ziva was gone, Tony had a passion to bring her back safely. Somehow, in the events of his trip to Israel for her, his fire had gone out. She needed to re-spark it if she was ever to get Ziva to come home. She needed her friend back, Gibbs needed his surrogate daughter back, and Tony…tony just needed his Ziva back.

She took a deep breath and steeled her nerves. She had a mission. Ziva had left, Tony had given up, and McGee and Gibbs were pretending that they had moved on. It came down to her to reunite the team, the _real_ team. Not to mention that love was on the line!

"Tony. She wasn't ready to come back then." She explained slowly. She could practically feel the resentment resonating from Tony for bringing up the subject.

"Oh and you think she is now?" he asked bitterly. He tried to hold back the anger in his voice that he had shown freely to McGee; this was Abby, after all.

"Yes. I do." she said very matter-of-factly. Her assumed knowledge of all that had passed was irritating him.

"Why?" he asked in a gruff voice. Abby smiled slyly.

"Becauuuuse." She sang, turning to her computer. "She sent me this." Abby opened up her e-mail and began scrolling through messages.

"She's been contacting you?" Tony asked, shocked. Abby shook her head.

"No, not exactly. She sent me those on my birthday last week." She said, nodding towards a bouquet of drying black roses. Abby always received dozens of them on her birthday. He mentally slapped himself for not wondering why she selected a specific bouquet to hang onto.

"As well as this." She said, opening up a message. The message was short, just a few words.

"Happy birthday Abby. I wish I could be with you; you should always be with family on important days. Love, Ziva."

Attached to the email was a picture, an old one. In it were Abby, himself, McGee, Gibbs, Ziva, and Ducky. It was from a Thanksgiving years ago, one of the few pictures with all of them in it. They were gathered close together, McGee a little drunk and holding Abby around the waist, Ducky not paying attention as he messed with the self-timer, Gibbs trying not to smile, and Ziva in the back, a glass of wine in her hand and her head on Tony's shoulder. A warm, content smile danced on her lips. Tony had forgotten about the picture entirely, it had to be 3 years old at least. Ziva however, had held onto it apparently.

"She's ready Tony. She still needs us. And we need her." Abby said after letting Tony read the e-mail half a dozen times.

"Abby," he sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, "even if I wanted to find her again I don't even know—"

"Israel." Abby interrupted. "I traced the e-mail."

Tony reopened his eyes and focused them on the woman in front of him. With her jet-black hair in its pig-tail braids, her knee-high skull embellished socks, and her studded dog collar, many people in the world were too distracted to take her seriously. Tony, of course, knew better. Abby Sciuto was never wrong.

He felt at a loss for words—a new sensation for him. He couldn't just buy a plane ticket and jaunt on over to Tel Aviv on a whim. He had already tried that. It blew up in his face. He couldn't go through watching her walk away from him again. He'd sooner turn in his badge before he'd relive that day. No, this was ridiculous. It was bad enough that he was inevitably going to be treated like a wounded bird by Abby and McGee, and eventually Palmer and Ducky no doubt. He did not need to add insult to injury by an encore heartbreak.

"Abby, she's not going to—"

"Hey!" she shouted, turning from sympathy to anger in one swift mood swing. "Have you been listening at all?"

"Abby, look I know Ziv—"

"Anthony DiNozzo you do NOT interrupt me when I'm talking!" she shouted. Tony's jaw clamped shut.

"That's better." She said. "I know you know Ziva, better than any of the rest of us. But don't you dare think that you're the _only _one that knows and loves her. I know her too Tony, differently than you. Ziva is part of this family. You don't give up on family Tony." Tony remained speechless. He couldn't remember seeing Abby so passionate about anything, at least not in years. Not since Ziva was taken prisoner by Saleem, not since he had almost died from the plague, not since Kate. This was a desperate Abby.

"Tony, Ziva has had almost nothing constant in her life." She continued in a calmer tone. He could tell her heart was no longer aching on his behalf, it was now filled with Ziva's pain.  
" Everything and everyone she loved was always taken from her, or left. Except you."

Tony felt the words hit him like a rush of cold, fresh air. She was right; she had to be right; she was Abby after all. He swallowed hard and looked away from her, letting it sink in. He was her only constant, and for quite some time, as unhinged as she could be, she had been his. And yet, somewhere along the line he had stopped fighting for her. He had let her get away. Or maybe, he had let her _go_ away. There was an important difference in the act of escaping, and the need to go at it alone for a while. But the time had come for her to come back, selfish as it may be.

Abby watched Tony's reaction nervously, unsure if her words had had the effect she was hoping for. Tony remained silent. He had given up his verbal arguments at least.

"Tony," she said softly, reaching out for him. "You have to bring her back. You have to bring her home."

"I know." He said even quieter. "I know."


	3. 3 Gibbs

His plane left in one week.

His plane to Tel Aviv left in 7 days. The plane that would take him back to the place where he watched the woman he loved fly away. The plane that would bring him to her again, where he would ask her to come home with him, again.

Only this time it would be different. This time he wouldn't fail. At least, that was what he kept telling himself. Abby had said he wouldn't fail, and Abby was never wrong. Since purchasing the ticket that was what he had been telling himself daily. This time had to be different.

Tony felt like he had spent half of his partnership with Ziva chasing her around the world. Costa Rica, Africa, Germany, Israel…he had gone halfway around the globe and back just to protect her, to be with her, to prove his trust and loyalty. He hardly had a choice in the matter though. Every time she left, the office became a suffocating, dull, and lifeless trap for him. For 8 years he had been able to look up at the insanely terrifying Israeli beauty every time he felt lonely, bored, or out of balance. In one way or another, she always brought him back to solid ground. He had risked his life for her over and over again. He had put his heart on the line because, well as he had told her once before, he couldn't live without her.

And he was about to do it again. This would be the last time though, because if Ziva walked away from him again then he would have no choice but to truly have to let her go. He also knew, that if she left him again, he would not be returning to NCIS. He was unable to accept somebody new at her desk; he was unable to sleep properly not knowing where she was or why she hadn't called; he was a liability; he was, in short, a mess. And he hated her for it.

McGee had already McProbed his way into knowing Tony's intentions. Abby had been the one to track her down in Israel. That left only one member of the team that needed to know Tony's upcoming travel plans: Gibbs.

Tony had been sitting in the bullpen for ages, waiting for the right moment to corner his boss and somehow explain the situation. He knew it was a fool's errand, and Gibbs would call him on that. Not to mention the fact that Ziva's name was almost as touchy of a subject for Gibbs as it was for himself. Although Ziva had gone on her soul-search to honor Gibbs, he had to suffer the loss of a very special daughter. She and Abby had relationships with the head-man that he knew he would never be able to understand. But still, he had to try. Leaving without an explanation would be unforgiveable. Gibbs would find out eventually; Abby would crack in a minute flat. More likely, he would figure it out himself.

Gibbs of course had to know, to some degree, how the relationship between he and Agent David had changed as of late. He would never forget the blood-lust he had when he believed that she had been killed by Saleem, and Gibbs and helped him every step of the way. When he needed to find her in Israel the last time, Gibbs had let him go without question. But this time, Tony had a feeling, would be different. He was not avenging his partner, and he was not making sure their friend was safe. He was trying to bring back the woman he had fallen in love with over the past eight years. He had fallen in love with her, unfortunately, while rule 12 was securely intact.

Tony perked up in his seat as he saw Gibbs crack his neck, check his watch, and head towards the elevator. Moments later, Tony bounded towards the elevator doors and slid in just before they shut.

"Got something you wanna talk about, DiNozzo?" he asked. Tony sputtered; he was supposed to initiate the conversation. He needed the upper hand.

"What makes you say that, boss?" he asked.

"Well you've been staring at me all morning!" Gibbs exclaimed.

"Ah." Tony said quietly. He swallowed hard. It was now or never.

"Boss, I'm uh, well I'm going away for a bit…on a trip, a personal trip…and I'm not sure for how long, exactly…"

Gibbs slammed the emergency button on the wall, and the elevator jolted to a halt. A chill ran through Tony's body.

"What makes you think she's even in Israel?" Gibbs demanded. Once again, Tony was thrown off guard. His mouth searched soundlessly for words that wouldn't come. He was getting awfully tired of his coworkers knowing things about his personal life before he told them.

"You printed the tickets at work DiNozzo. I saw them days ago." Gibbs explained.

"Oh." Was all Tony could say. Well, at least he wouldn't have to kill McGee for telling more people.

"So?" Gibbs asked again. "What makes you think she's there?"

"Abby." Tony answered shortly. Gibbs raised his head slightly in acknowledgement, but stayed quiet. The moments dragged on for what felt like hours until the weight of the dark silence was overwhelming. Tony shifted uncomfortably. Normally elevator chats with Gibbs didn't last quite this long. The only other time he had been in here longer than a minute or two was when he had been trapped in the sweltering heat after a terrorist attack on NCIS. At least that time he had had much more attractive, albeit agitated and downright lethal, company.

Finally, Tony had to break the silence.

"So, I guess now is the part where you lecture me on breaking rule 12? Not to mention 4, 10, 11, definitely 15…" (A/N see below for what those are.) Gibbs shook his head.

"What?" Tony gasped. Nothing about this conversation was making any sense, or going according to plan. "But I-I don't understand Boss."

"Rule number 5 DiNozzo." He said. A very faint smile traced his mouth as he saw Tony's confusion spelled across his face.

"You don't waste good." Tony repeated from memory. He scrunched his brows in concentration, trying to piece it altogether. "So what you're saying is, this whole thing, this…she and I, we…could be _good_?" he asked. He realized he had trouble saying both of their names in front of Gibbs. It was too engrained in his training to deny any feelings for her, or any coworker technically.

Gibbs was almost smiling now, as Tony was grasping for straws. As usual, Dinozzo had _mostly _gotten the point. He nodded his head slightly, indicating he had partially been correct. The truth was, he too wanted Ziva back. Although, he understood she would by no means come home until she wanted to. He also knew though, that Tony was never going to rest until she returned.

"What I'm saying, is that at some point, you have to start making your own rules." Gibbs said. Tony was taken aback, but this time he tried to hide his shock. That was, without a doubt, the highest compliment he had ever been paid by Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

"You, you think I'm really ready for that Boss?" he asked tentatively.

"Well, that depends." Gibbs replied. He turned and stepped a little too close for comfort to Tony. "What's your first rule?"

For a moment, Tony remained still. How was he supposed pick his first life rule, theoretically his most important rule, with Gibbs literally breathing down his neck? Then it dawned on him. Rule #1 was incredibly simple. He looked his formidable boss squarely in the eye.

"Rule number one," Tony said evenly, "Never, ever, let Ziva David get away again."

Gibbs finally smiled fully; he ducked his head and stepped back from Tony.

"Oh yeah, you're ready."

**A/N: **

**Rule 4: If you have a secret, the best thing to do is to keep it to yourself.**

**Rule 10: Never get personally involved in a case.**

**Rule 11: When the job is done, walk away.**

**Rule 15: Work as a team. **


	4. Ziva

**A/N: In all honestly I almost didn't write this chapter because I was nervous about writing Ziva's internal monologue in a way that would fit with the story. I could go on and on trying to explain her departure and it still wouldn't measure up to the real Ziva. BUT I went for it and I have to say I **_**love **_**this chapter. I wanted to go a lot deeper with it but I'm holding off for this particular story. Instead I give you one quick glimpse into Ziva's thoughts and why she does/doesn't want to go "home". **

**I hope you like the chapter as much as I do! **

Ziva watched in silence as another plane took off from the enormous runway outside of her window. It was a 747, filled with hundreds of people going God-knows where for God-knows what reasons. Surely, each one of them felt that their reason was the most important, the most urgent, the most necessary. Most of them likely had business, friends, and family waiting for them at the end of their travels. Although she was surrounded by countless other travelers in the airport terminal, Ziva couldn't shake the clinging, sticky feeling that she was alone.

"Mommy, how much longer?" she heard a small voice ask. Across the aisle were a young, dark haired girl with pigtails and her mother. The little girl was lying across the woman's lap, tucked up snuggly underneath her sweater. Her eyes were heavy with sleep and were gazing up at her mother expectantly.

"Our plane should be here in about half an hour Carmen. Then just two hours until we are home with Daddy!" she told her daughter as she smoothed her mussed hair.

Ziva tore her eyes from the family as she felt them start to sting, praying the two knew how lucky they were. She rubbed her eyes and instinctively reached for her necklace before remembering that it no longer belonged to her. Instead, her hand landed on her chest where the necklace should be, and hovered over her heart.

She turned back to the window and searched the skies for the plane that would take her to her next destination. Over the past few months she had traveled city to city, country to country, in search of something-only she still wasn't entirely sure what she was looking for. All of the runways, planes, hotels, even the tourists, had begun to look alike. Ziva sighed and again rubbed her sore eyes. She was so very tired. She was tired of planes, tired of suitcase, tired of baggage claims. Most of all, she was tired of watching the world move on uninhibited while she felt so stagnant-despite her near constant state of motion. At first, being in a state of perpetual action had been a beautiful escape. She never had to stop for too long, never had to let her feet touch the ground. For the first time she had time to explore her roots, to begin to piece together some sort of semblance of the person she was…or at least the person she could be. For the first time she _wanted_ to discover who she was, without her father's influence, without Mossad, and without NCIS. It wasn't that the process had not been rewarding, for it had been in many ways. Ziva had let go of the ropes binding her to a life she had never gotten choose. She had outrun her demons. Her soul felt lighter, her mind felt opened again, but her heart—something was definitely wrong there. Something was inexplicably missing. There had to come a time where she would have to stop running.

Ziva looked down to the ticket clenched in her hand. She would be leaving for Colombia in about 45 minutes. One of her old partners had returned there, someone who had at one time been nearly like a sister to her. Ziva hoped she would be another piece in the puzzle of her past and present.

Ziva yawned and stretched. There was just enough time for her to shut her eyes for a bit before the plane would board. Airports were easier to sleep in than hotels usually. She had been in and out of so many that they almost felt like home at this point. Almost. What was that saying? "Home is where the heart goes?" It was something like that. Ziva found it rather cruel; she had lost her heart many years ago. Unfortunately, by the time she realized she had given it away it was too late. Ziva closed her eyes and let her mind drift off on its own. She was all set to dream of a particular scruffy-faced man, when a very loud and raspy voice snapped her out of her almost pleasant reverie.

An older gentleman had taken the seat next to her and was proceeding to yell hoarsely into his cell phone.

"Margie? Marge can you hear me?" he hollered. Ziva prickled at the invasion of her space and thoughts.

"Yeah, yeah I'm at the airport now Margie so don't worry." Ziva smiled despite her frustration. It was nice to know that the old man had somebody worrying about him.

"Huh? Oh, I know I miss you too." He yelled. Hearing the personal call felt uncomfortably like eavesdropping, but there wasn't exactly a way for her _not_ to hear the conversation. Ziva looked back at her ticket and ran her thumb absentmindedly over the typed destination. Who would be worried about her were her plane to get delayed, or worse, if there was an accident? Certainly nobody in Colombia (Monique didn't even know she was coming), and certainly nobody in Israel, at least not anymore. There was really only one person she had always been able to count on to worry about her, to care to find her when she needed it most. But, it was unlikely he would come for her this time. Not again.

"I'll be home soon Margie. Love you too." The old man said. He stared at his phone for a few moments before finding the "end call" button and slipping it into his pocket. He leaned back in his seat with a content smile.

"I'm headed home to see my wife." he explained to Ziva without bothering with an introduction. "45 years we've been married and this is the first time I've travelled without her."

Ziva forgot her initial frustrations. She longed to hear more about this strange old man's story.

"45 years?" she asked him. "That's amazing." Ziva struggled to swallow the idea of being married to someone for even longer than she had been alive. Something so constant and stable and safe was incredibly foreign to her. To stay committed to anything, let alone one person, for that long seemed impossible. She looked at the man and saw he was laughing quietly. He shook his head at her surprise.

"Oh no, not really. Not when you find your soul mate." He said with a wide smile. Ziva returned the smile. His excitement was infectious. He was a rather short older man, with deep set laugh lines and white, clean-cut hair. He reminded her strongly of Schmeil, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth towards the stranger.

"Soul mate?" Ziva repeated with a hint of doubt in her voice. Her previous notion of napping had been abandoned; she now wanted to keep her new acquaintance talking about his Margie. The gentleman nodded in answer to her question.

"Mhhmm" he mumbled. He then turned and looked at her appraisingly, eyeing her worth.

"You do believe in soul mates, don't you?" he asked, leaning in close to her.

"I did not use to," Ziva slowly admitted, "but I am beginning to change my mind." The old man stared at her for a moment longer, and then leaned back in his chair apparently satisfied with her answer.

"Good." He said nodding again. "That's good. It's never too late for soul mates, you know." He told her as he let his eyelids droop to a close.

"Never?" Ziva breathed.

"Never." He repeated. Ziva fell silent, still toying with the ticket in her hand. Despite the adventure she would find there, despite the friend she longed to see and the memories she had in the country, she knew nothing in Colombia was going to soothe the prominent ache in her chest.

"Do you love him?" the raspy voice suddenly asked. The blunt, unexpected question startled Ziva. She stared at the old man blankly.

"What?" she gaped. He was sitting up again, sizing her up again.

"You heard me. You're not the one going deaf here young lady. Do you love him?" he demanded. Ziva regarded the man with heightened respect. He may be old but he still had fight left in him. So like Schmeil. Had he not been so sincere, she might have been tempted to react in a much different manner. As it was, she gathered herself and answered quite simply,

"Yes."

"Good." He said again. The man removed his prying stare from her and once more reclined in his seat, eyes shut. He sighed heavily and settled into the silence. His concern for Ziva's heart seemed to have been placated for the moment and his mind had traveled far from the airport. He began to smile, and Ziva couldn't help but wonder what he was seeing. It wasn't exactly hard to figure out.

"Oh Margie," he sighed, "I couldn't live without you." Though his words were not intended for her reception, they sent Ziva's mind spinning dizzily out of control. The airport disappeared and she was back in that cell, the hot, dusty cell she should have died in, the cell she had wanted to die in. She had given up entirely, given up on hope, and on herself. She had finally been broken. She had finally lost. And then, there he was. Ziva saw his face as clear as the day he had been captured for her sake. He was bruised badly and drugged, yet still smiling at the sight of her being alive. Life seemed to pour out of him and into her veins. She had been so incredibly angry with him. 

"_Tony, why are you here?" _

"_I couldn't live without you, I guess."_

He had risked his life, along with McGee's and Gibbs', because he could not give up on her. Unlike her father who had as good as left her for dead, unlike former partners who would have given up for the "good of the agency", Tony DiNozzo would not rest until he either found her, or at the very least avenged her. She would not be living today had it not been for him. But, was she even really living? Did this count? Was all of this madness, this constant never-ending search, this pain in her chest, was it _living_? Ziva's hand drifted back to her heart, although this time knowing the necklace wouldn't be there.

She was jerked back to reality by a woman's automated voice coming over the speakers.

"Now pre-boarding flight—" Ziva tuned out the rest of the announcement when she heard that it wasn't hers. The old man, however, had started to gather his things.

"Looks like it's finally time for me to go home." He said as he pulled up the handle to his rolling carry-on.

"Will you be going home soon too, I hope?" he asked her. His watery blue eyes narrowed as he looked down at her. Ziva looked once more at her ticket. She laughed to herself and looked back up into his smiling eyes.

"Don't worry." She told him. "I'm finally going home too."


	5. Them

Two days until he left.

Tony's plane to Tel Aviv left in less than 48 hours, and yet his suitcase lay open and empty on the floor beside a basket full of clean, unfolded, laundry. The task of moving the clothes into the case, thus solidifying the reality of his second foray to Israel after Ziva, was much too daunting to consider without a drink first…or two.

The ice in his drink clinked melodically as he rested the cool glass against his clammy forehead. The tinkling ice sounded much closer to music than any of the sounds he had been eliciting from his piano for the past half hour. He had been searching for a distraction, and had sat down at his rarely used piano as a source. Whiskey in one hand, and his other on the ivory keys, he felt exceptionally dignified, although slightly tipsy as well. The pleasant feeling of channeling a wealthy gentleman of the past quickly wore off as alcohol-blurred mind reminded him who had taught him the few simple tunes that he did know.

Tony's hand dropped from the piano and he took another sip of his drink. Of course his attempted form distraction from her actually reminded him of her. At least five years ago they had agreed on an exchange: she tried to teach him to read music and play the piano, and he educated her on movies and English sayings. The agreement had partially succeeded. He could vaguely read music, but somehow couldn't remember how any of the damn keys corresponded to the notes on the page. Ziva had successfully sat through handfuls of American movies and could even name the directors of a few of them, but 10 plus years living here and she still was terrible with English idioms, not to mention the concept of contractions.

The memory started to weaken his reserve to be melancholy and anxious that night. Those days had been some of his favorites with her. It all seemed so much simpler then, the way you look back on your past and wonder how on Earth you found anything to be unhappy about when really _now _everything seemed dire. Tony knew now that he had underappreciated those nights with her. It had been before Eli died, before Ray, before Rifkin even, and before Africa. They had been coworkers working on being friends, not yet friends accidentally falling in love. In truth, she was just getting over her initial hatred of his cocky attitude and constant pranks, and he was just barely beginning to get over being outright terrified of her.

Tony sighed as he drained his drink. He wanted those days back. No, that wasn't quite true. He wanted _her_ back. While he would gladly take the "old" Ziva back as he and McGee called the trigger-happy Mossad agent they had first met, there were reasons it had taken them years to get to where they were now. Or at least, to where they could have been. He hadn't been nearly ready to handle all that is Ziva David. And she, she had still been much too much the calculated product of Eli and Mossad. Then, somehow, after years of working together, protecting each other, and nearly losing one another, of undercover missions, mutual heartaches, long car rides and even longer plane rides, they had grown up. Somewhere along that road, protecting her ceased to be a job requirement and became a personal necessity. And now, he didn't even know where the hell she was. Well, he had a country to go off of thanks to Abby. But he still had no idea how to find the woman, let alone get her to come back with him. He had failed before, why not this time too?

Tony stood and slammed the piano shut in frustration. This was not working. He needed a better distraction. He made his way to the bottle on the coffee table and poured himself a large third drink.

"Don't look at me like that Cate." He said to the miraculously still living goldfish on the side table. Cate gave him the best stink-eye a fish could muster.

Just as his glass graced his lips Tony heard a knock on his door. He frowned against the still upturned glass. He was definitely in no mood for visitors. Most likely it was McGee or Abby probing about his plans to bring Ziva home. He remained still and silent, not wanting the sound of the ice in his glass to give him away. Hopefully the unwanted guest would give up and leave before his arm gave out.

The knock came again, harder this time. Swearing under his breath Tony stepped over the empty suitcase and made for the door. The knock came a third time and just as Tony opened his mouth to tell them off he heard the voice on the other side of the door call his name,

"Tony." It was soft, husky, and sent a jolt of electricity through Tony's unstable body. Only one voice could send his full drink crashing to the ground, creating a disarray of whiskey, ice and shattered glass.

"Tony? Are you all right?" Ziva asked, knocking again. Tony mechanically forced himself to the door. He had to see her to believe his ears. This had to be a dream; Cate had been right he definitely shouldn't have had poured that last drink.

His arm shook as he opened the door; he was unsure if he was more afraid of seeing her there or more afraid of having imagined it. When his unsteady arm finally pulled the door open, there she was. Ziva stood before him as real and as beautiful as the day he had been forced to walk away from her in that airport.

"Ziva." He said. He was surprised how strong his voice sounded. He had hardly expected to hear a sound. She was looking up at him, those big doe-eyes filled with an emotion he couldn't quite place.

"May I come in, Tony?" she asked. He had been staring at her in the doorway for nearly a minute. Tony stepped aside just enough to let her brush past him. He shut the door behind it and leaned against it, studying the woman now in his living room. It didn't add up. Why the _hell _was she in D.C.? Why hadn't he known about it? How did she possibly look so calm when he felt like his head was going to explode?

Ziva's eyes quickly took in the apartment, from the whisky, to the broken glass, to the empty suitcase. Her body tensed noticeably as her eyes fell on the last item.

"You are going somewhere?" she asked, although, as usual, her question came out as more of a statement. Tony wrapped his hand behind his neck and rubbed at a suddenly tense knot.

"Yeah, well, I was…" Tony said. Ziva gazed back at the suitcase and took a few steps towards it. Being so close to Tony, and being so clearly far from him was tearing her apart. She felt her control over the situation slipping out of her hands. With every bit she lost, the urge to run from the apartment became stronger.

"Where?" she asked him, but there was no response. The hairs on her neck prickled as she felt the unwelcome sensation of being an intruder. Here she was, showing up without even a phone call after having sent him away from her. He had flown to Israel and begged her to come "home" with him. He had offered to change with her, knowing she needed so desperately to change. She knew he would find a way to give her the world if she wanted it. And she couldn't handle it all. At least, she couldn't then. And now? Why should things be on her terms? He was packing for a trip with God-knows-who and she had just expected him to—what? Drop everything for her? In truth, she had not known what to expect. She had known she needed to see him. She had known that a part of her was missing. That had been enough to bring her back here.

"I am so sorry Tony." She said turning to leave. Her trained instincts were screaming at her to get out. She did not belong here anymore, and it was her fault. She should not have come.

"I should have called." She said, moving towards him for the door, but Tony still blocked it. He caught her arm as she barely got the door open.

"To Israel." Tony answered her previous question. He looked down at her downcast eyes and waited for her look up at him. Her breath had caught in her throat at his words and she let her hand fall from the door.

"I was going to Israel." Tony reached behind him and pushed the door shut again, remembering rule #1.

"But it looks like I'll have to cancel my trip." He said. He remained between her and the door, knowing she was wavering between a rapid escape and seeing the mission through. He would not move until he was sure she was no longer a flight risk.

"Ziva." He said softly. The sound of her name from his lips weakened her. His voice was low and gentle, but heavy with hurt. Ziva felt the weight of anxiety start to lift from her chest. Her arrival had certainly startled him, but she had mistaken the reaction as anger. The longer he looked at her the more his expression softened. Her heart constricted as she saw the pain etched in the lines in his face. She had caused that pain.

"Why are you here?" he asked. Ziva took a deep steadying breath. No amount of training or experience could prepare her for the test of offering up her heart. But, he had done it for her; it was well past her turn.

"I think, for the same reason you bought that plane ticket." Ziva answered. His hand was still on her arm, preventing her from leaving his side. She stepped back slightly, so that his hand slid down her arm until she caught it in hers.

"I needed to see you." She said, looking from their hands up into his eyes. She squeezed his hand, and turned away from him again. Tony immediately regretted losing physical contact with her, but she only went so far as the couch.

"You could have seen me every day, you know, if you had come back with me the first time I chased you to Israel." Said Tony. He knew his words stung strongly of bitterness, but he couldn't keep them back.

"I know Tony. But I could not come back with you then, because I did not know who I was anymore." Ziva began to explain. Tony sat stiffly beside her on the couch, feeling like the stranger in his own apartment. He knew that his stare was probably making it even harder for her, but he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

"I was afraid that if I did not figure it out, I would become someone that I did not want to be. I could not let you down like that. In the state that I was in, I was not ready for….you, Tony." The words started spilling out easier than she had expected them too. Tony stayed quiet.

"It felt like I was somebody else entirely. I was no longer the little girl I had left in Israel, I was not the teenage soldier out for revenge for her sister, I was not the trained assasin Mossad agent, and I was not simply an NCIS Special Agent. I did not know how to reconcile all of these, these parts of me. I did not know what kind of person my past made me, or what it would make me into." Ziva sighed. She was not used to expressing so much about herself at one time and the result was startlingly exhausting.

"And now?" Tony asked her. The bitterness had been mostly washed from his voice, leaving just a bite of acidity. "After jetting off around the world a bit, you've figured out who you are?"

"No." Ziva shook her head. "But I am getting closer."

Tony furrowed his brow. He greatly wished he hadn't dropped his drink for he could desperately use the distraction. If she wasn't finished with her self-discovery, then she was only temporary.

"Then why are you here Ziva, if you haven't "found yourself" yet?" he asked. The stinginess was creeping back into his voice as much as he tried to keep it at bay. He was about to break his one and only rule of not letting her get away.

"Because Tony," Ziva said breathily, "a very large part of who I am is because of you." Tony straightened up, caught off guard by her statement. His eyes devoured her expressive face and he had to fight the desire to kiss her right then and there. He let his heart swell with the hope that this time, she would stay. Ziva reached out and covered the hand he had on his knee with her own.

"Tony," she continued, "you are the one person who has known all the parts of me, and still accepted me as I was when I could not. You taught me true friendship. You taught me for the first time, how to be vulnerable to another person. You taught me what honest, unflinching trust was." Her fingers tightened around his hand and as she spoke, and Tony felt the last wisps of resentment evaporate.

"After all this time of feeling lost and alone, I finally realized that all I truly wanted was to just, come home." Ziva said with a note of finality. She was looking up expectantly into his eyes, although she wasn't exactly sure _what_ she expected to see in them.

"And NCIS is your home?" Tony asked skeptically. Ziva smiled for the first time that night.

"No Tony," she said as she caressed his cheek, "you are my home."

When their lips finally met, the world went still. Tony's mind went blissfully clear. He forgot the wasted time, how it had felt to lose her, the impossibility of the moment. All he could think about was how perfectly her lips contoured to his, and how she still smelled and tasted just as tragically beautiful as she did in Tel Aviv. She was finally, finally, his.

Ziva breathed him in, and as she exhaled she allowed herself to do something that she had not done in years. She let go. Tony pulled her closer, tangling his fingers in her hair and erasing any space left between them. As her body molded into his, Tony mentally made an adjustment to his rule one.

Rule #1: never let Ziva David get away again

Rule#1 a: This includes never stop kissing Ziva David.

**There you have it! She's back! I'm sad that this is over, but I'm working on something cute that will use this set-up. Stay tuned! And let me know if you liked it! **


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